Bunny hop: Crossover OneShots
by SCWLC
Summary: Really short extracts from what would be longer fic if I had anything else in mind besides these one-shot scenes. This is now a dumping ground for BJT/AtLA crossover bunnies.
1. Fear and Ice

Title: Fear and Ice

Author: SCWLC

Disclaimer: Anne Bishop owns Kaeleer and all its inhabitants, other people who are a list unto themselves own Zuko, Toph and everyone else in _Avatar the Last Airbender_.

Summary: A really short extract from what would be a longer fic if I had anything else in mind besides this. Zuko is delirious and Saetan has to watch.

Notes: So . . . yeah. An AtLA crossover with the BJT. I just had this one image in my head of Saetan sitting at a delirious Zuko's bedside and just being totally furious as he heard about the way Zuko got The Scar. Most of this is just a setup to get Zuko (via the magic portal of it-just-happened-that-way-just-go-with-it) to Kaeleer, because I can't stop with backstory, even when all I actually have is drabble.

Notes2: No, this really is just . . . it. I can't do a sequel because I don't know what I'd do after this. Not to mention that I don't actually own copies of the BJT, so I can't double check references to the universe, which means all errors regarding gates and Kaeleer etc. are because I totally forgot. It _is_ gates, right?

* * *

Saetan sat by the bed of the boy who had been spat out of the Gate on Kaeleer. He wasn't from any of the realms, the girl with him had assured them of that.

This was a problem, for everyone, and not just because Jaenelle was having great difficulty in figuring out how to get to a realm previously unknown to them all. It was a problem, because Saetan had no one to destroy for what had been done to the child lying on the bed in front of him. Those golden eyes the boy had, so close to the ones in his own family, had been tormented the few times they'd flickered open.

Now they were closed, but there was no peace on the boy's face as he slept on. He had not been truly awake even once during his stay at the Hall.

It had been early evening when a crack of power had resonated through the air and made the ground tremble. All the Blood in the Hall had raced to the Gate, not knowing what was waiting there, only that a tremendous expenditure of power had occurred. They had not expected to see a young girl with straight black hair, crying over the tortured form of a boy.

"Sparky! Sparky, wake up! Please. Please don't . . ." her voice was cracking. As they all landed, most of them had airwalked (or run) there, Jaenelle hastily moving toward the children, knowing that a healer was needed by at least one of them. The girl's head snapped up, and Saetan recalled being surprised by the blank look those clouded eyes had. The girl was blind. Then she snapped out, "Who's there?"

"We're friends," Jaenelle started, carefully, "I just-"

The girl didn't let her finish. "Stop right there," she said, suddenly calm and confident. Like a queen with the backing of her court. She wasn't a queen . . . or was she? A smooth movement of her hands, and walls slammed up out of the ground itself, blocking her and the boy from view. And separating Jaenelle from the rest of them.

_Wait_.

One word, that was all they heard from Kaeleer's Heart. So they waited, Saetan exchanging looks with his sons, who looked as perturbed as he felt at this whole turn of events.

"Now tell me who you are, and who you work for," the girl said. "Because if it's Azula, I don't care what the Avatar thinks about killing, I'll take you all down before I let you hurt Sparky again." Those words were definitely enough to stop them all from rushing to protect Jaenelle. If this girl was some sort of queen, and she had to be at least a witch if she could make the earth move at her bidding, she had every right to protect an injured member of her court from complete unknowns.

They could hear Jaenelle trying again. "My name is Jaenelle. I don't know anyone named Azula. I'm a healer. I can help him."

"And your friends?" The girl said, mistrustfully.

Jaenelle told her, "They won't either. Only if you try to hurt any of mine would we try to hurt you."

The girl paused, then said, "You're telling the truth." She sounded oddly surprised. "Okay, but if anyone tries anything . . ." she trailed off, leaving the threat unspoken. Just as suddenly as they had come up, the walls came down. For a moment, Saetan saw his daughter, restrained by some sort of handcuffs made of stone, but before he could even begin to be angry, they dissolved away and she was free.

He and his sons moved forward, getting a closer look. The boy on the ground was covered in burns, cuts and bruises. The fingers on one hand had been broken and one of his legs lay at an odd angle. He was panting, and through the remains of what had once been a silk shirt, they could see an odd formation to his chest that looked like broken ribs. Over the left half of his face was an old scar. Someone had burned the boy from his cheekbones, up to forehead and that stretched all the way back to his ear. It looked horrifying, but it wasn't part of the injuries that needed immediate healing. Nonetheless, Saetan could see Jaenelle calculating in her head how much could be done.

His eyes fluttered open a crack, and Saetan was startled to see gold there. Gold eyes like his own, like Daemon and Lucivar's. "Ka-" his voice rasped, and he tried again. "Katara?"

"Not here, Sparky," the girl said, combing her hands through his hair. "It's just us."

But he wasn't aware enough to take that in. He just moved slightly, restlessly, and said, "'Tara, don't go." Then his eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out completely.

There had been a flurry of activity, and they'd moved them both to the Hall. The next few days had been full of bustling activity to get the young man, they'd been told his name was Zuko, healed.

Toph, the girl, had told them about the boy letting himself be captured to protect someone she called the Avatar. Had told them about a realm where Craft only existed as a manipulation of the elements, and where Prince was a term denoting a young man who was in line to inherit a throne, not a term of Craft. She and the boy were both the equivalent of masters of their craft, the girl a master of earth and the boy a master of fire.

Zuko's sister had tortured him, trying to get information from him, and Toph had barely left his side, telling him about the things she had learned of Kaeleer, which she called weird.

It was reasonable, Saetan supposed, for her to call Kaeleer weird, given that her own realm sounded fairly 'weird' to him. He was watching Zuko, as Daemon had finally pulled Jaenelle away for a few hours and Lucivar had duties to attend at Askavi. Toph had fallen asleep at his bedside and been moved to a pallet on a stone floor a few rooms over. So Saetan sat by this boy with eyes like the Sa Diablo family and watched him toss and turn in a delirium.

His wounds had become infected, and now they were battling a fever and hallucinations. Sometimes Zuko would speak his part in some scene only he could see or remember. Sometimes Toph could tell them what it was the boy was remembering, and sometimes she couldn't. Even now, he was softly muttering.

"No . . . wrong."

"Shh. Rest, child," Saetan said, combing his hand through the boy's hair. "You're safe."

"Sacrifice," was the one clear word amidst all the mumbling.

Saetan tried again. "Toph is well," he told the boy, softly. Trying to find some way to draw his mind away from whatever tormented him. It didn't work.

"Please, father . . . I'm sorry . . ." There was desperation in his voice, and Saetan had to resist the urge to pull the child off the bed and into his arms the way he would have with his own sons. He couldn't, not only because the boy's injuries were healing slowly, and he didn't want to aggravate them, but because he didn't know how Zuko might react in his state of delirium.

Instead, he left his hand on the boy's head, carding through his hair, hoping that it would comfort him.

". . . no disrespect. I am your loyal son," he pleaded. "I won't fight you." There was a silence. Saetan hoped it meant Zuko was settling into a deeper sleep.

Then the boy screamed. It was tortured and the sound rang through the air, filled with terror and pain and it was all Saetan could do to pull the boy's hands away from the scar, where they seemed to be trying to pull something off, or ward something away. His body arched, taut as a bowstring, before collapsing, his now-hoarse voice fading away into soft murmurs. The last clear words from his lips, "Please, father."

The room was cold, and Saetan was vaguely aware that he needed to leash his temper before he did something rash. Right now, he wanted to find the creature that claimed to be this boy's father and let his darker impulses loose on the man. But there was no one for him to tear apart, because right now there was no way to the boy's realm to do that.

A midnight black voice spoke behind him, and Saetan felt the edge of his temper ease off as the daughter of his heart told him, "When he's better I will find a way to return them to that realm. Then we can exact justice."


	2. Breaking, Bending, Misunderstanding

Title: Breaking, Bending, Misunderstanding

Author: SCWLC

Disclaimer: Anne Bishop owns almost everything in this story, and a variety of other people and organisations own the rest. None of it's mine.

Summary: Chaosti and Sceron make a mistake. Katara makes them pay for it. Daemon's not happy to have been involved.

Author's Notes: This is also a one-shot, like the first chapter. This basically means, as with most one-shots that I write in this way, that if someone wants to write the rest of the story, they are absolutely free to.

* * *

In spite of how completely insane everything was, Zuko felt rather relaxed. Sure, his sister had found some weird gateway to some world on the far side of the spirit realm and tossed him through it along with Katara. Sure this crazy place had no benders and people with superhuman crazy magic powers that let them make illusions and walk on water and who knew what else. Sure he and Katara were stuck working at this inn until they made a little more money and could continue their journey to find someone who could get them home.

On the flip side, there was no war here, and he and Katara weren't wanted by anyone, and all that had meant their relationship had taken a turn for the . . . intimate. He grinned as he trotted down the stairs toward the well. Katara hadn't wanted to get out of bed, so she'd sent him out to the well in the middle of the night to refill her waterskin. Zuko didn't really mind, because in exchange for being her errand boy, he got to be her lover.

It also gave him a good excuse to take his blades out with him, just in case he got jumped by some of those upstart locals again. A bunch of boys had taken offense to him for some reason involving Katara that he wasn't really clear on, and had tried to take his head off.

Zuko had responded by taking them out back and thrashing them soundly. He'd wound up pulling out his swords, not because he needed them to fight, but because it was fun and impressive to slice through the various makeshift weapons they'd tried to hit him with, most of which were various wooden farming implements.

He cheerfully pulled up a bucket of water, immersing the skin in it to fill it up, when he heard the scrape of a boot on the cobblestones of the yard. He slowly turned, and found himself faced with two men. One was slender, and Zuko caught sight of pointed ears in the flickering torchlight. The other was human from the waist up, but was entirely one of those 'just-horses' people rode around there from the waist onward.

"Zuko, right?" the horse-man asked.

Zuko raised an eyebrow, but saw no reason to dissemble. "Yes. Can I help you with something?"

"I am Prince Sceron, this is my friend, Prince Chaosti," said the horse-man. "We'd heard some disturbing rumours and it seemed only right that we dealt with them."

"Rumours?" Zuko asked, wondering what it was about him that had the locals so irritable. First it had been those two idiots saying he'd 'shattered' Katara, which seemed to have some local meaning he couldn't understand, and now these two.

Chaosti nodded, a cold smile on his face. "We all tend to take offense to a warlord who breaks a witch on his spear."

Zuko stared at the man. "A what who does what to who now?" he asked, baffled. If he was right, that was a fairly dirty statement and they'd just accused him of raping someone probably Katara. On the other hand, sometimes these people talked so weirdly, he couldn't be sure _what_ they were saying. "Since I have no idea what you just accused me of, I'm going to have to assume I haven't done it." He picked up the waterskin and turned away, planning to head back up. Katara was waiting, and she'd said something about hurrying and a new nightgown. Now was not the time to get into a fight. "If you'll excuse me, my girlfriend is waiting."

It was only because he was used to constantly expecting an attack from his sister or some other Fire Nation flunky that he avoided the first blow. Zuko dove out of the way, and came up with his blades out, ready for the next attack. It came from two different directions and his swords clashed with the blades the other two carried. The sharp kick from a horse's hoof took him by surprise and sent him down, gasping.

Still, he rolled with the blow, kept moving before he got skewered and came up fighting. He was lucky he'd kept his bracers, because he was forced more than once to block with his forearms. He was barely hanging on – these two were both very good, and clearly used to working together. One of his desperate lunges was blocked however, with a glowing shield. The man behind it smirked, and Zuko glared. "That," he snarled, "Is just damn cheating."

He dove and rolled away, got himself enough space, and did a spinning flame kick, hoping it might have some effect on the shield. Oddly, it passed straight through, and slammed into the chest of the horse-man generating it. Zuko felt his lips stretch into a grin as it sent the other stumbling back. "Huh," he said. "Didn't know that would happen."

His attack inflamed the other two, however, and Zuko was caught between two good fighters who were using their magic powers to demolish Zuko. With no idea of what they could do, or how, he was reduced to bending and hoping for the best while he parried with his swords.

It wasn't enough, and soon he was gasping on the ground, cursing the circumstances and the full moon above that had him at his weakest.

"Now," said the ruffled-looking Chaosti, "We will make sure you never do it again."

Katara's voice came clear as a bell in the courtyard. "What is going on here?"

* * *

Chaosti and Sceron had heard from the younger, lighter-jewelled warlords about the new warlord in Armdarh. The warlords had explained that they had seen the new one clearly involved with a witch who was far too young to have had her virgin night, and that they were fairly convinced he'd broken her, because of how nervous and flighty she was about her craft.

They'd also explained to the two consorts that the mysterious warlord, whose name was 'Zuko', had defeated them in a straight fight, before any of them had even had a chance to bring craft into things.

The two decided to take matters into their own hands and went to confront the mysterious newcomer. This Zuko had certainly put up a tremendous fight, and his grasp of craft was extremely odd. He seemed to have no counters for anything they threw at him, but they, likewise, could not counter _his_ craft, which seemed centred utterly around the creation of fireballs and waves of flames. He was also an excellent opponent with the two swords he bore, and it seemed fairly obvious that if he had not been utterly unable to predict and cope with the way Sceron moved, as a Centauran, he would have come out of the melee the better as long as craft hadn't come into it.

But this was not the case, and they managed to win in the end. As Warlord Zuko lay on the ground, bleeding and bruised, Chaosti felt some regret that such a fine warrior had to be done away with. All it took to lose that regret, however, was to remind himself that somewhere in that inn was a broken witch. They'd bring her to Jaenelle after. Maybe something could be salvaged.

That was when things fell apart.

"What is going on here?" demanded a young female voice. It was the witch, as she had been described to them. Brown hair, dark skin, dressed in blue. "Zuko? What . . ." She looked up at Chaosti and Sceron and her eyes widened. "What happened to him?" she asked.

Sceron took a step forward, then stopped as she tensed. "We were dealing with Zuko here," he told her. "You have no need to fear anything."

"'Dealing' with Zuko?" she asked. "What does that mean?"

Something about the way she said it made Chaosti uneasy. Still he answered. "We know that he has, at the least, attempted to shatter you. Justice must be served. We know the Prince of Dhemlan, and . . ."

"Break me?" she asked, looking confused. "There was that time when he tried to trade my mother's necklace for Aang when he tied me to a tree but-"

"You're never letting that go, are you?" groaned Zuko from where he was kneeling, clutching his chest.

The sense of unease strengthened, because this didn't sound like a broken witch, and the interchange didn't sound like a rapist and victim. "No," Katara replied. "You're going to be apologising for the rest of your life for that. I had been looking forward to a good one tonight," she said, and the hastily tied sash on her unusual dress gaped a little open to show lacy lingerie underneath before she retied it. "Instead, I find a couple of thugs have beaten you up." Her voice was cold.

With a snap, every bit of liquid in the yard froze solid, and Chaosti heard a strangled sort of laugh from Zuko. "You made her mad."

Water erupted from the well, swirled through the air and slammed the two of them into the wall. The water pulled away, and Chaosti pulled himself to his feet, seeing the girl surrounded by a spinning wall of water that morphed into a series of tentacles that whipped through the air, leaving welts on his skin, and the force sending the Dea al Mon prince spinning. He noticed Sceron receiving the same treatment, and instinctively the two sent out a cry for help and heard an acknowledgement on the return thread.

Finally the whirlwind of icy attacks ceased, leaving the two sore, cold and wet. The girl took a deep breath, and when she exhaled, they found themselves encased from the neck down in solid ice, too thick to break through without either fire, time or craft.

A silky-smooth voice cut into the proceedings, asking the question the girl had asked only a few minutes before. "What is going on here?"

* * *

Katara had been waiting for Zuko to come to bed and had gotten herself comfortably arranged in a position she hoped was seductive. They'd only become lovers since landing in this strange world, but the tentative friendship they'd had before had deepened rapidly while they'd travelled through the alien landscape until she was fairly sure that she was in love. Zuko had even told her he loved her the night before.

Some sort of fight was going on in the innyard, and she got worried very quickly that Zuko had gotten into another fight. She believed him when he said they'd attacked first and that he had no idea why. She was worried though, that he'd been impulsive and gotten into another fight a little more deliberately.

She'd thrown her outer dress on, and hurried outside to see two men, one part horse and the other with strange ears standing over Zuko, who'd looked pretty badly off, clearly threatening him. It also became pretty clear that they thought Zuko had done something to her. That was when she lost her temper. The fact that they'd had the gall to attack her boyfriend for hurting her without even checking that she was hurt made her see red.

It was a full moon and she clearly took them by surprise (as much as she liked that she _could_, it was kind of annoying that no one ever saw her as a threat), as she threw them around the yard, then finally froze the pair to the opposite wall. She was just about to start to see to Zuko when a voice interrupted, wanting to know what was going on.

At the entrance to the yard, stood a man. The man stood with a sort of lazy, easy sexual confidence that made Katara think about the fact that Zuko still owed her a night of dramatic lovemaking and didn't seem likely to pay up that evening.

The two on the wall opened their mouths, probably to state their case, and Katara, not wanting to hear whatever stupid thing they were going to accuse Zuko of, slapped gags of ice over their mouths. She said, "Apparently they decided that Zuko had hurt me or something and decided to beat up my boyfriend without even checking to see if I actually _was_ hurt."

"They said I raped her," Zuko corrected from where he had pulled himself to his feet.

"_What_?" Katara snapped.

Zuko shrugged and then winced. "Well, it's that, or I don't know what they're talking about."

Katara turned to the idiots on the wall. "Do I look like a rape victim to you?" she demanded. "No, don't answer that. You thought the same guy I had to crawl naked into bed with to get him to do _anything_ with me would have raped me."

"That _was_ an experience," Zuko commented.

* * *

Daemon had been relaxing in the library with a nice book, enjoying a quiet evening by the fire. As much as he loved Jaenelle, he had come to relish those evenings of certain peace and quiet and knowing that she wouldn't say or do something to make him want to bang his head on a wall and whimper.

So he was a little irritated to be interrupted by a sudden thread of communication from Chaosti. _Daemon!_

_What?_ he asked, knowing the Dea al Mon prince wouldn't have bothered him over nothing.

A sense of anger infused the thread, and Daemon felt The Sadist rise in response to the words, _We'd heard there's a warlord in town and he's been trailing a witch after him. By all accounts he's been . . . forcing her._

_I'm on my way,_ he told the prince.

_We're going to confront him now,_ Chaosti said. _We'll leave some for you, I promise._

_Who's 'we'?_ he asked.

_Just Sceron and myself,_ responded the other.

Daemon was on his feet and his way to Armdarh in moments. His temper on edge from the news. The very notion that some warlord was tracking all over Kaeleer, and taking some broken witch with him was simply intolerable. He caught the black wind and was on his way when he heard Chaosti's voice again, this time not angry, but frightened. _Daemon! I think we miscalculated._

_I'm almost there,_ he sent back.

When he arrived at the inn, what he saw took his temper and his breath away. Raging in the courtyard was not a battle between warlords, but one slender witch was tossing around the two warlord princes as though there were a child's toys. On the far side, against the wall, was a much-damaged young man, that the witch was clearly defending. With one final gesture, she sent the two into the wall away from the boy, both of them soaked to the skin, and then breathed at them. Daemon raised an appreciative eyebrow as her breath turned into a white mist that crawled up their bodies, and left a foot-thick layer of solid ice behind. Chaosti and Sceron were quite solidly restrained by it, and she immediately turned toward the boy. Before she got more than a few steps, Daemon asked mildly, "What is going on here?"

Before either of the princes could respond, the girl gestured sharply, and sparkling gags of ice were over the men's mouths, preventing them from speaking. It was really a fascinating piece of craft, and Daemon wanted to make her acquaintance now for the nature of her craft alone.

The exchange between the two that followed told Daemon rather a lot about the pair, not least of which that the girl was clearly not anything even remotely like broken, and that whatever was happening between the pair was completely consensual and wanted. In fact . . .

"You thought the same guy I had to crawl naked into bed with to get him to do _anything_ with me would have raped me," the girl was saying.

"That _was_ an experience," Zuko commented. The smile on the boy's face said everything that Daemon could have wanted to hear.

He asked Chaosti, "What, exactly, did you hear that led you to the conclusion you'd reached?"

The gag was still in place, and when he turned to the girl – it was her craft he was going to unravel after all, it was only polite to ask her to do it herself – she just got a stubborn look on her face and harrumphed. The boy sighed. "Katara . . ."

"No. They can just thaw."

The boy sighed, straightened up, held out a hand, and a finely tuned jet of flame arced across the space and melted the ice gags away. The girl, Katara apparently, pouted.

"Chaosti?" Daemon asked.

The prince looked away. "A couple of the local warlords said they'd seen another warlord forcing a witch to sleep with him. They tried to confront him, but he fought them off, so they asked us to . . ." he trailed off as Daemon raised an eyebrow at him.

Wanting to clear things up, he turned to the couple. Katara was now prodding at Zuko's injuries while the boy was trying to fend her off. "What do you have to say about that?"

They both looked at him, Katara looking irritated. She was about to say something, no doubt cutting, when the boy got a startled look on his face. "I think they were watching. I mean, that time that you let me tie you up," he told her.

She froze, and then her eyes narrowed. "They were watching?" she asked.

"It's the only explanation," Zuko said. "I mean, we were pretending I had you tied to the tree again, remember?"

Daemon tuned them both out, uninterested in the sexual dynamics of two teenagers, and turned to Jaenelle's friends. "You based your assumption entirely on rumours perpetuated by two warlords who lost to this young man?"

They both flushed. "Umm . . . yes," Sceron said, abashed. Chaosti seemed defiant, but Daemon was able to read that he too was embarassed at having made such a grievous error.

Shaking his head, Daemon chose to leave them both there as an object lesson in not leaping to conclusions, especially since their assumption that the girl was broken in any way had just been violently disproven by the witch in question. He walked over to where she was leaning over her lover, clearly examining his injuries, then saw a blue glow appear where her hand was resting on his chest. Zuko seemed to relax as the glowing hand moved over his skin, and Daemon was intrigued to see the boy's bruised and cut face knit itself back together under the girl's hand.

"Thanks, Katara," he said.

She ignored that and asked him, "Can you stand?"

He winced and started to pull himself up before folding over with a cry and clutching his ribs. "Give me a minute," he told her.

"So you can't get up," she told him. "Fine. Lie down."

"Wha-?" She efficiently pushed him flat on the cobblestones, held out a hand and the water soaking the courtyard came at her command, pooled under the boy, then wrapped around him, and started glowing a blueish-white. In short order, it was apparent she had healed the injuries, and Chaosti and Sceron had both managed to make their way free of the ice.

The pair got to their feet, and Katara shot the two princes an imperious look of sheer disgust before storming up the stairs, followed by Zuko. She groused the whole way in a very familiar litany on the idiocy of men. Daemon sighed and turned to Jaenelle's friends and former first circle. "Next time you decide on punishing someone, make sure he's actually guilty first, would you?" Before they could reply, Daemon left and caught the black wind home. He was going to need rest because Jaenelle was sure to drag him into something crazy after he told her about the witch's unusual healing skills.


	3. There's Your Trouble

Title: There's Your Trouble

Disclaimer: As always, I don't own any of the characters.

Summary: Daemonar strikes out on his own.

Notes: I don't really know how well this works, I've never tried writing from the perspective of a child of under five. As with everything in this dumping ground, if you think you can get an actual proper story out of this, feel free to take the idea and run with it.

* * *

Daemonar had run away.

Well, not really run away. It was just so _boring_ going shopping with his mother. She wouldn't let him go flying in the shops, she never looked at anything interesting like toys or picture books or weapons like his father's. No, it was all household goods and clothes. Or food. But it was never interesting food like candy. It was boring, icky food like spinach.

So when she turned her back, he snuck off. He was going to follow the river that passed right by the village, and that wound all the way to where their aerie was. His father hadn't taught him tracking yet, but he knew about the river, so he wouldn't get lost.

He started off flying, very low so no one would see him, but eventually he got tired and landed so he could walk along the riverbank. He got even tireder then. Walking so far was really hard. And the trip that seemed so fast from the safety of his parents' arms took for_ever_. Now that he was on the ground, and his wings were too tired to carry him, he also felt a little lost. He wasn't _really_ lost . . . the river was right there, after all. But he couldn't see very far through the trees, and it had already taken a really really long time to get this far.

In spite of the fact that Hallevar always told him that big boys didn't cry, he felt tears starting to well up. Before they could, though, there was a sudden snarling sound from the woods to his right. Pounding out of the underbrush came several dozen feral winged men. They weren't Eyrian. They were something else. They snarled and ran at him, looking more like some kind of animal than people. Even the kindred looked more like people than these people.

Daemonar panicked and tried to fly, but they were on him too fast, grabbing him and holding him so tightly he started to bruise.

"Daddy!" he called. _Daddy!_ He was too little to be very strong in his Craft yet, and he didn't hear any response. Still, he kept screaming until one of them backhanded him across the face. It hurt lots and lots. Worse than when he'd fallen and scraped his knee, worse even than when he'd tried touching the pot with his favourite stew in it while it was on the fire.

That was when _she_ came.

She was dressed all in blue, and she shouted at the strange men, "How about you let the boy go and deal with someone your own size?"

They snarled and tried to run at her, but she moved her arms and water flew out of the river and hit the men hard. Hard like when his father was training the Eyrian warriors. The snarling men went flying backwards into the trees behind him, making loud 'thuds' as they hit. She ran forward, with water floating all around her like the armour he'd seen on display sometimes at the Keep. Gesturing again, that water stretched out and hit the men holding him, and they lost their grips.

Then he was snatched up in her arms and she was carrying him to the river. She didn't even stop at the riverbank and he watched, amazed, as she made a boat out of ice just well up out of the water.

"This is gonna be really cold," she warned him, as she put him down in the boat. It was really cold, but he hardly noticed, because she was moving her arms again, and the boat started to move down the river really really fast. As fast as _flying_. He looked up and saw that the scary men were still following, but they were going fast enough that they might still escape.

"Who are you?" he asked her.

She smiled down at him, briefly, before turning back to steering their ice-boat. "My name's Katara. What's yours?"

"Daemonar," he told her. "Can you take me home? My Daddy will make the scary men go away."

"Depends," she said. "I can't move this fast anywhere but on water, and there are too many for me to fight and keep you safe at the same time if we leave the river."

He frowned in concentration then said, "The river goes right by our aerie. It's not far to there, and Daddy and his warriors should be home."

"Do I need to keep going this way?" she asked. Daemonar nodded, and she nodded back. Then she did something that made them go even _faster_. She was really pretty too. Her skin was dark and her eyes were blue like Auntie Jaenelle's. She was wearing strange clothing, but it was a very pretty blue. He'd never seen a witch like her.

He was distracted when one of the scary men suddenly managed to get close enough to try to hit them with a club. Katara whipped one hand up, and water came out of the river, encased the man, turned to ice and then she just dropped him into the water, where he bobbed up and down, covered in ice several feet thick all over and with only his head sticking out. "Wow!"

Daemonar thought that if he had to serve a witch when he grew up, he wanted to serve this one. She was really neat.

Then they were coming up on the closest point to the aerie from the river. "There!" he shouted.

"You're kidding," she told him. "This is only close if you . . . you normally fly the distance, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. "But Daddy should be there."

She frowned, then seemed to come to a decision. "Climb onto my back and hang on really tight, okay?"

"Okay," Daemonar said. He got on piggyback, wrapping his arms tightly around her, and doing the same with his legs.

"Now," she said, "Can you tell me _exactly_ where you think we need to be?"

"Uh-huh," he said. He carefully described the point where his family's aerie was, describing the decorative additions his mother had placed on the entry.

"Okay," she said. "Hang on, here we go!" A few gestures later and they rocketed up into the air, a platform of ice under her feet. Then they reached the peak of the arc and started falling. It was really scary again, especially since the scary men seemed to have caught up, but somehow, she landed them on the ledge.

One of the scary men tried to make a run at them, but she whipped her arms around and formed a thick bubble of ice around them which took the brunt of the blow.

"Daddy!" he shouted, banging on the door that was ebon-gray locked. "Daddy!"

Behind him, he was aware of her doing something with the water that gave it lots and lots of tentacles, which she was using to fight a whole bunch of them at once. It felt like forever before the door opened. "Daemonar?" he said. Then he took in the scary men attacking them and Called his bladed sticks to hand, launching himself into the crowd.

Watched the fight with wide eyes, he didn't even realise his grandfather was there until the man picked him up and took him inside. "What did you think you were doing, running away from your mother, young man?" asked his grandfather.

Daemonar knew he was in trouble, but he had to at least _try_ to explain. "I was bored Grandpa," he said earnestly. "Mama only looks at boring stuff when we go shopping, so I wanted to go home."

"Do you have any idea how worried your mother was?" his grandfather asked.

"I thought I'd be home fast and then Daddy could tell her where I was," Daemonar explained. "It tooked longer than I thought."

His grandfather didn't look impressed. He took Daemonar's face in his hands, tilting it back and forth. "I see you ran into a lot of trouble."

He nodded. "Katara saved me from the scary men and then made a boat and took me the rest of the way home."

"I assume Katara is the young witch who brought you here in such . . . unorthodox manner?"

Daemonar frowned. "Um . . . what does un . . . unorth . . ."

"Unorthodox?" his grandfather asked as he collected some ice to put on the bruises on Daemonar's face.

He nodded again. "Yeah. What does it mean?"

"It means . . . unusual. Not the normal way." Then his grandfather put the towel-wrapped ice on his face.

"Oh. Then, yes."

The noises outside had stopped, and his father came in accompanied by Katara. "Daemonar!"

"I'm sorry Daddy," he said, hoping to avoid another lecture.

Katara stepped forward and knelt beside him. She turned to his grandfather. "Is that ice in the towel?" she asked.

Eyebrow raised, his grandfather said, "Yes."

She plucked the towel from his hands, and suddenly the ice had melted and reformed into a pretty glowing blue glove around her hand. She put it on his face and the pain just went away. A minute later, she pulled her hand away, reformed the ice and said, "That's better, isn't it?"

"Impressive," his grandfather told her. "I'm quite sure my daughter would be delighted to discuss your method of healing. My name is Saetan SaDiablo, this is my son, Lucivar, and my grandson, whose acquaintance I believe you've already made."

She smiled slightly, but said. "I'm sorry. I wish I could, but those . . . the people who attacked Daemonar are following the orders of someone I have to hunt down. She escaped from where she was being held, and I'm afraid that Azula is far too dangerous to be allowed free rein."

His father's eyes narrowed. "Then you will allow us to assist you in your hunt. Anyone who can convince the Jhinka to attack this close to the Keep needs to be dealt with."

Katara smiled. "Thank you. We've had . . . bad experiences in the past with asking for help. Sometimes we just try to deal with it on our own to avoid the trouble. Help will be very appreciated. I'd better get back though. The only reason I came here was because I was getting Daemonar somewhere safe."

"I thank you for that," said his father. "Can I offer you a lift?"

She smiled. "I'd like that. I'm sure my boyfriend is worried." They left, and moments later, his mother arrived home. "Daemonar! What were you thinking? I just turned around and you were gone!"

He'd learned his lesson. Leave Mama while shopping and get attacked by scary men. "I won't do it again, I promise."

He was still pouting over his thwarted ambitions when his father got back. "Everything I've heard about this Azula makes me very concerned," his father told his grandfather. Then he looked at Daemonar. "What's wrong?"

"She's got a boyfriend," explained Daemonar. "_I_ wanted to be her boyfriend."

The adults stared oddly at him for a moment, then his father commented, "At least he has good taste."


	4. Lost, Love

Title: Lost, Love

Author: SCWLC

Disclaimer: Owning nothing here but the plotline.

Rating: PG for safety

Summary: The Avatar's band has lost one of their number, and Daemon is the only one who can help Zuko with that loss.

Notes: This doesn't feel right to me, but it's actually a test run for a totally different AtLA crossover (with Tamora Pierce's Tortall universe if anyone's wondering), where I want to do a setup much like this, but with a different character at Daemon's end of things. This is just to sort of work out some plotting bugs and the like. So Daemon feels a little . . . off in spots, and I have no idea what to do with Jaenelle except in very small doses, so she feels really weird here to me. Anyhow, here's another one-shot for the pile. As always, if anyone wants to pick this up and make a complete fic out of it, go for it.

* * *

That Zuko boy was brooding again. Daemon knew it had something to do with the girl who had gone missing. When these strange Craft users had started popping up all over Kaeleer, it had quickly become evident how alien a realm they were from.

There was the non-Blood boy, Sokka, the self-styled leader of their group. A declaration that had received snorts of derision from all the children, but none had actively disputed the statement. There was a young warrior woman, Suki, who was involved with Sokka. Jaenelle and the other ladies from the coven had delighted in learning about the girl's best weapon, a pair of sharp-edged fans. Lucivar had approved of a weapon that could be carried concealed in plain sight like that, and that was so clearly a 'woman's weapon' he could finally train the women around him to fight without objections from the more hidebound types.

Toph, the little blind girl, was an amazing and powerful master of her Craft. She communed with the earth itself and could move it to her will. She saw through the earth around her, and through her feet. His father had actually looked quite despairing of his sense of propriety when the girl had calmly explained that yes, she could wear shoes, if he wanted to take away her eyesight.

The most powerful member of their group was a young boy, called Aang, who they had declared to be the Avatar. Apparently, he was special as the only member of their realm who could use all four of the elements. He was only twelve and had a maddening tendency to be like Jaenelle when she was the same age, in alternating wisdom and childishness. He had not suffered as she had, but Daemon had to admit that he wasn't sure he would ever become as blasé as the other children when the tattoos and eyes had started glowing that blue-white and he was suddenly faced with a frightening woman in green with tribal makeup standing where Aang had just been.

It was the last member of their group he was concerned with, however. The boy, Zuko, was a Craft user as well. His element was fire, although Daemon had yet to see him do anything more impressive than absently light the fireplace or a candle with a flick of a finger.

"You're thinking about her again," Daemon said, mildly.

Zuko shot him a sideways look. "I can't help it. It's my fault. I should have . . . I don't know. But Azula is my sister. I should have found a way to stop her. It's almost completely certain Katara's dead, and I just . . ."

"This isn't just guilt, is it?" Daemon asked, settling himself against a wall. "Your companions seem to believe this is merely misguided guilt over her death."

A sharp indrawn breath. "They're right about everything but it being misguided."

Daemon's eyes narrowed. "No, they're not. I keep seeing you pull out those combs whenever she's mentioned. She meant more than that."

"She's Sokka's sister, Aang's best friend. I've only known her for a year, and half that time I was trying to hunt down Aang and hand him over to my father," Zuko told him. "I don't have the right to . . ."

"To what?" Daemon demanded. "Mourn her? It's painfully evident you had an equally close friendship."

"Yes," said the boy, turning sharply away. "Friendship."

That was the missing piece then. "More than friendship?" suggested Daemon.

It was as though the dam holding back the words shattered. "We were lovers," the boy told him, voice cracking. "Aang . . . Aang is the world's only hope. We couldn't let him be distracted. Katara had already had to break his heart when she told him she didn't love him. If he found out that she and I were . . . before he stopped my father . . ." the boy trailed off and shot an almost desperate look at Daemon. "He can be wise, but he's just a kid, and sometimes he reacts and doesn't _think_. I don't always either, but . . ."

Suddenly Daemon understood. Zuko and the girl Katara had hidden their relationship. Now, Zuko had no more visible right to mourn the loss of his lover than the others, and less than her brother. He tried to imagine that period after the Cleansing of the Blood, when he wasn't sure Jaenelle was going to live, and having to spend that time pretending she meant no more to him than a close friend. He winced in sympathy.

Zuko was speaking again, as he pulled out the lovely combs he had been fingering so frequently. "These were my mother's," he explained. "In the Fire Nation we . . . when you want to ask a girl to marry you, you offer her combs." He traced the filigree. "I was going to ask her to marry me. I even started a Water Tribe engagement necklace if she wanted one instead."

That sense of despair, Daemon knew all too well. He'd had the ring for Jaenelle made and ready, and then she'd almost died. He'd been half convinced she _was_ dead. Zuko didn't even have the comfort of knowing one way or the other. Just an almost-certainty. He caught a glimpse of the boy trying to control himself. But the boy didn't need control just then. He needed to let it go, and Daemon, who could only imagine how he'd feel if it were Jaenelle and himself in that situation, acted on instincts he didn't think he had any more. He wrapped his arms around the yellow-eyed teenager, and felt the boy crack, and then begin to sob.

_Daemon?_ came an Ebon-Gray thread. _What's going on?_

Quickly, Daemon explained to his brother. _Can you make sure the other children don't find him just yet?_

At his brother's acquiescence, Daemon returned his focus to the grieving teenager.

Eventually the tears dried, and Zuko pulled away. "I should have broken down like that," said the boy. "I haven't since my mother . . . vanished."

"It's all right."

After that, Zuko seemed to find a sort of equilibrium. Daemon now often found himself beleaguered in his office by the young man, asking him questions about the administration of the Territory. Finally he had to ask, "You can't possibly find this interesting. Why do you keep showing up here?"

"Katara," the boy said as though it was an explanation. But he went on. "If we win the war, I'm going to become Fire Lord some day. I'll be the one running the Fire Nation. I . . . I've only ever seen how my father would run a country. I don't want to be like him, but I don't know how else to do it. Katara promised she'd get me in to see how Chief Arnook runs the Northern Water Tribe and Bumi runs Omashu. She even promised to get me in to see Kuei, if they ever get him and his bear back."

"His bear?" asked Daemon.

Zuko shrugged. "He has a bear. Apparently he likes it a lot. Its name is Bosco."

Daemon blinked and decided that, like many things in the strange realm these children came from, he didn't want to know. "So you are here to . . . find out another way to run a territory, because you feel it would honour Katara?"

"She told me I'd be a good Fire Lord. I . . . don't want to fail her," the teenager explained.

With that, Daemon couldn't turn him away in good conscience. That was how it came to pass that Zuko was with him as he and Jaenelle toured the Territory together. Zuko had not seen much of Jaenelle until that first day, but he instantly charmed her by saying he'd never thought he'd see eyes as beautiful as Katara's on anyone else.

Jaenelle, ever willing to be sensitive to what people meant, and having been told that Katara was Zuko's lover, accepted the compliment in the spirit it was meant, even as he blushed and tried to find another way to put it. "It's fine," she said, laughingly. "I know the way we view the ones we love is different from the way we see other people. I appreciate the compliment."

Zuko gave a strange, but clearly practised and formal bow, hand over fist on his chest. "I do thank you for your forbearance nonetheless, my lady."

Daemon shot him an amused look. "There is no need for such formality," he commented. "Although I do wonder why I have never seen it before."

Zuko leaned back, contemplatively. "I was raised a prince," he explained. "It's not defined the way it is here, but I am of noble birth. I don't act it with the others because it sometimes makes them feel like I'm trying to . . . show off."

"Ah," Jaenelle said. "So you're trying to make sure your friends are comfortable, but you're actually more comfortable with Protocol."

Zuko smiled. "Something like that." He looked a little sad, then. "Katara liked it when I treated her that way, though. She said it made her feel like a princess."

"A princess?" Jaenelle inquired.

Zuko had explained a system of governance, and what all the terms were and meant in his homeland. Daemon found himself a little disturbed at the place women, even their witches, seemed to have, but was drawn in nonetheless. The rest of the way they discussed the different ways in which nobility functioned in Kaeleer as opposed to the Fire Nation and what Zuko had seen of the other nations.

That evening, Zuko retired to his own room, and Daemon curled up with Jaenelle in their own bed. She sighed. "I feel so bad for him," she said.

"I know," Daemon told her. "I couldn't help but think of after the cleansing of the Blood when you were so . . ." he trailed off, remembering. "And how I'd feel if you hadn't been able to come back."

"But I did," she said, gently stroking his hair from his eyes. Then they didn't do much more talking.

The next day, they made their way through the town, talking to the inhabitants, speaking to the local authorities. Daemon watched aware that Zuko was taking mental notes. He was a little amused when Jaenelle got him a pad and joined him in making notes, then becoming absorbed in the unusual symbols the visitors used as their writing.

Then one of them mentioned a girl in blue with dark skin who had been spotted with the kindred wolves in the area. The wolves' den was fairly close to the village and the people had seen the girl take up residence in a clearing that was apparently close to the wolves. Daemon hadn't been paying very close attention to Zuko, but he'd been getting the location out of the man so that he and Jaenelle could check up on this stranger.

The moment the man had finished his directions, Zuko had taken off at a dead run for the woods. Daemon and Jaenelle exchanged glances, and took to the air after him. Most interesting to watch was when, tired of pushing through crowds and ducking around the people who were there to gawp at Jaenelle and had stopped in the streets to watch the pair air run after the teenager, Zuko leaped into the air, clearly boosted by his fiery craft, landing on a rooftop. Watching him run across the slanted and uneven surfaces, leaping from building to building, Daemon could almost believe the boy to be part Eyrien.

Zuko wasn't paying attention to anything but his destination however, vaulting off the last rooftop, which was very close to the forest, and taking to the tree branches with ease.

"Do you suppose he's got some Eyrien in his background?" Jaenelle asked, echoing Daemon's thoughts as they were forced to land in order to keep him somewhat in sight.

Ahead of them, Zuko's voice could suddenly be heard. "Katara! Katara!"

Daemon held his breath. Hoping, on the boy's behalf that it was who he thought. To have a hope like that, and for it to be crushed, would be a terrible thing.

There was a long silence. A horrible silence. Another call sounded, this one more despairing. "Katara!"

There was another pause, and then, hesitantly, "Zuko?" It was relatively soft, but the boy seemed to hear anyhow. In a flash he'd changed direction, and Jaenelle and Daemon, racing after him, were treated to the sight of Zuko launching himself out of the tree with sheerest gymnastic grace to land beside the girl in tattered blue clothing.

"'Tara?" he said, reaching for her hesitantly. "Are you . . . are you okay?"

"Zuko?" she breathed.

He was frozen, as though he didn't quite dare touch her. Daemon knew the feeling. He knew how it felt to wonder if it was just a dream, or, even if it _was_ real, if he would shatter her if he so much as laid a finger on her. "I'm here. Sokka, Aang, Toph and Suki are all here. Did . . . did Azula throw you in too? Are you . . ."

"I . . . I'm fine. Now. They . . . the pack found me. One's a healer and she . . . she fixed me up. She only just finished recently."

Jaenelle softly muttered next to him, "Would you two kiss already?" His lips twitched in spite of himself. He was in sympathy with her on that. The suspense was killing him.

"But you're okay? I mean . . . you're not hurt anymore?" Zuko asked, his hands flexing as though he wanted to touch her but was resisting so as not to hurt her.

"I'm fine," she repeated. "Zuko . . ."

The dam broke and the teenagers fell into each other's arms. Daemon heard a suspicious sniffle from Jaenelle. He turned to her, and saw she was looking teary-eyed at the reunion. "It's so sweet," she said. Daemon couldn't disagree.

Below, on the forest floor, the pair of lovers lost themselves in their reunion, letting the rest of the world briefly fall away.


	5. Forcing the Issue

Title: Forcing the Issue

Author: SCWLC

Disclaimer: Anne Bishop owns everything to do with the Realms of the _Black Jewels_ series, and a collection of people who aren't me own _Avatar_. But you already knew this. Right?

Rating: PG

Summary: Saetan steps in because Katara needs a stern talking to. Marian steps in because Saetan's talking to just meant Katara needed another talking to. So Zutara.

Notes: Item the first, I actually ran this by Misora, because her fanfic _Penance_, which you should totally check out if you're a Zutara fan and/or like citrus fruit in your fic, was the original inspiration for this. In effect, while Katara's motivations in this fic are not the ones in Misora's, the result is a relationship much like the one in her _Penance_ series. That is, Katara's confused and confusingly mean to Zuko much of the time, but is still absolutely hooked on him. If you want a more detailed description of how the pair is interacting, you should check the fic out. For the record, this _isn't_ a spinoff or sequel to _Penance,_ it's just inspired by it. So please, don't freak out that I'm not matching the canon of _Penance_.

Other, less important notes: Saetan can have an office still in the Keep, even if he has retired as the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan . . . Okay, I realised what I'd done and I don't want to rewrite. I'm just so used to Saetan behind a desk. As always, this is just a single section of a nonexistent story, and if anyone wants to pick it up and make a complete fic out of it, just let me know and you'll have my blessing.

* * *

Saetan had been watching these children from this strange Realm where Craft was merely elemental manipulation and the dynamics between them had him riveted and a little disturbed. They all seemed to treat the boy, Aang, with a sort of reverence and respect that almost ridiculous. This twelve-year-old boy was just that. A boy. While Jaenelle had been the same age when she first began to jump between Realms in that way that still gave him heart palpitations, even though it was now more than a decade since (and he was Demon Dead, but that hadn't stopped his heart from pounding back then, either), it had been evident in everything she said or did, that she was Witch.

Aang was just a boy with far more power than the others, and it left Saetan rather baffled.

Then there was the older boy Sokka. He was a warrior, interesting, clever, practical and intelligent, but the others seemed to see him as somehow less than they were. This was only disturbing because it mirrored the tendency of the Blood to discount anyone who did not practice Craft as worthy of their time.

What bothered him the most, however, was the girl Katara, and the difference between how she treated the boy Zuko, and the rest of the children.

She mothered Aang, was a sister to both her brother by blood, and the girl Toph and had created a very close friendship with the warrior woman Suki. But with Zuko she was extremely cruel and demanding. She seemed to blame him for all the actions of his people, but was also in a sexual relationship that had caused several of the Kindred dogs in the Hall to poke their heads into his study to ask why the Katara-witch was so unkind to her mate. He'd pressed them for details and received descriptions that were a little tangled, as the Kindred descriptions of human interactions tended to be, but made it fairly clear Katara was pressuring young Zuko in a way that was most disturbing.

Saetan had seen this sort of dynamic before, usually between a young warlord and the queen he had just begun to serve as Escort. That is, among the Queens groomed by Hekatah and Dorothea. She prodded him and pressured him, saying cruel things, and he simply took it, apparently unable to pull himself away, perhaps afraid of breaking Protocol, perhaps unsure of his boundaries as Escort.

What upset Saetan most, however, was that the girl Katara was obviously a kind and wonderful witch. Jaenelle was friendly to her and she was clearly gentle and compassionate. So why was she being so terribly cruel to this boy, and treating him in such a dreadful way. There had been some discussion of Zuko having been an enemy of this group before, but it didn't explain why she wasn't merely ignoring him in lieu of this mean-spirited treatment.

This was why he had managed to get her separated from the others. She needed a very stern talking-to, and it looked like he was the one to do it. He knew his sons had told some of the horror stories of their upbringing in Tereille to the visitors. A few apt comparisons should warn her clear of this appalling behaviour.

"Lady Katara," he spoke to her from where she stood beside the fountain practicing her Craft.

She turned and smiled at him. "It's just 'Katara', your Highness," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. "The correct form of address for a warlord prince is simply his title, 'Prince'," he informed her.

"Oh," she said, looking surprised. "Back home, if you're talking to a prince, you call him 'Your Highness'," she explained. "I'll let the others know. Although, I suppose, since none of you are princes the way we'd understand it, I should've expected that."

"Really?" Saetan let the conversation wander a little. This might be a bit of a clue to some of the more unusual behaviour of their visitors. "So 'prince' is not a designation of Craft?"

"If by Craft you mean bending," she paused, he nodded, and she continued. "Then no. A prince is the son of a king, that is, the ruler of a country," she explained. "They're the ruling family. The only people who can be called 'prince' – officially that is, as opposed to a sort of joking popular title – are the sons of kings. Period." She shrugged. "Which, by our definition, makes Zuko still the only real prince around."

Miraculously, she had led the conversation right to where he wished it. "I actually wished to speak with you on the topic of that young man."

Her face turned ugly. "What about him?" she snapped. "He betrayed me – us, under Ba Sing Se, and Aang nearly died because he chose the sister who had been trying to kill him and his uncle over helping us stop the war."

"He seems to have repented," Saetan said mildly. He had not missed her stumble, 'me – us', in her explanation. "The others certainly seem to have forgiven him."

She leapt to her feet, pacing angrily. "She called him a traitor. She tried to kill him. I was there, in the Catacombs with him when he said the Fire Nation had killed his mother. Like mine. I offered to heal him. I offered him the chance to be part of something and . . . and he just threw it all in my face when his sister showed up." There were tears in her eyes, of frustration and something else. Hurt maybe. "He knows that Azula always lies."

"So you decided to force yourself on him in revenge for your hurt feelings?" Saetan asked, watching his words hit her like a slap in the face. She flinched away from him. "Do you know, I have only ever seen one kind of woman treat a man like this," he said, keeping his voice mild and letting his words do the work. He knew just how awful such a dispassionate summary of one's faults could be. "Queens like my former wife, Hekatah. I will never forget the way she led me along, having me convinced of her affections for me. I will also never forget how it felt when she denied my paternity and took my son away from me. Took both my sons, Daemon and Lucivar, from me."

"What?" Katara gasped.

"You are forcing him to be with you. Using his feelings of guilt and desire for expiation of that guilt against him," Saetan told her, becoming sharper. "You are hurting him to satisfy your own base desires and I will not let you do it." He glared at her, still seeing the hurting yellow eyes, so like his own, and those of Lucivar and Daemon as the boy crept from her room just before dawn, looking wan and sad. "My daughter nearly died destroying the Taint to the Blood from queens who did just what you are doing to this boy, as a matter of course. Don't force me to stop you." He stood, leaving her pale and shocked beside the fountain. "Don't forget," he crooned, "There is no law against murder here."

She was shaking as he swept off, feeling bed for having to do this, but knowing that someone had to step in on the boy's behalf.

Marian had felt the rumble of Saetan's temper in the garden and had glanced out the door as she passed by. She was on her way to the kitchen to consult with Mrs. Beale on a recipe the other woman had given her, but she'd wondered if she would have to check that someone needed to inform the gardener that the garden needed rebuilding. Thankfully it didn't, but beside the fountain was that girl Katara.

Being a hearthwitch, Marian had first bonded with the young woman over recipes. They had chatted, each of them exchanging recipes that were completely normal to each, but utterly exotic to the other. The dumplings and that 'jook', which Katara had showed her how to make, were a fine addition to her personal collection of recipes. Katara had, meanwhile, been utterly fascinated by simple breads, gravies, and the spice combinations Marian normally used in the kitchen. The whole process had been very rewarding.

The girl was shaking and crying, and Marian knew she didn't want to leave her like that. Perhaps she had accidentally said something that upset Saetan. The Darkness knew the Realm these children were from was so different from everything in any of the three Realms that practically anything could have been said or interpreted wrongly. "What's wrong?" she asked the girl.

Blue eyes snapped up and stared at her, before Katara stammered out between sobs, "I'm a terrible person."

"I'm sure you're not," Marian said, soothingly, getting her seated on the bench next to the fountain.

"I am, I am," she practically wailed. "I – I'd heard that – Daemon and – and Lucivar telling Zuko and Sokka about bad queens and . . ." she trailed off for a moment as a fresh round of sobs rendered her unable to speak. "Saetan just said I was treating Zuko like they – like . . ."

Marian winced. She had heard from Lucivar all about the tortures he'd been put through. She'd heard about the rapes, the dosing with aphrodisiacs, _safframate_ being only one, just the cruellest. She'd heard about the use of the Ring of Obedience to cause pain whenever he didn't obey and the abuses, physical and emotional, he'd suffered at the hands of the queens in Tereille.

She couldn't picture Katara doing those things, and her being so distraught at the accusation also suggested against it. "What did he tell you? What have you done with Zuko that warranted his saying so?"

"I . . . he . . . it started because I was so angry with him," Katara explained. "He'd been chasing us and trying to capture Aang to give him to the Fire Lord for months. Then, I thought he'd joined us, in Ba Sing Se, but he just . . . he just turned on me, and because of him, Aang nearly died."

Marian nodded. "I can see why you'd be angry." She guessed, "When he first joined you, you were suspicious?"

Nodding miserably, Katara continued. "I thought it was a trick. So I treated him badly. Then one night, I just . . . I just wanted to humiliate him. Make him feel the way I did when it turned out I'd trusted him but he sided with Azula against us." She took in a shaking breath. "It was too much, I knew it then, but I was so angry." She seemed to be pleading for understanding as she spoke. "I made him do things like kiss my feet and . . ." she shrugged. "The next thing I knew, I wanted him to – to do other things with me. It just kind of . . . kind of happened."

Eyes wide, Marian said, disbelieving, "You forced him to have sex with you."

Katara nodded miserably. "He didn't seem to object. I kept coming back and he never said anything about it." She sighed. "I was going to stop. I was. But he was so good and nice and everyone trusted him. I realised he wasn't bad."

"You fell in love with him," Marian guessed. Katara nodded miserably. "Now you don't know how to change the relationship?"

The girl shook her head. "He's a prince," she explained. "He's going to be the Fire Lord someday. I . . . I don't want him to fall in love with me. I mean, I do, but he shouldn't. He needs to marry for the good of the Fire Nation, and a waterbending peasant can't – shouldn't be Fire Lady."

This was familiar territory for Marian. "You think you're not good enough for someone as important as a prince?" she asked. "That's ridiculous. I felt that way about Lucivar-"

She didn't get to finish, because Katara interrupted. "No. That's not it. The Fire Nation's full of people who think anyone who isn't Fire Nation is a savage or . . . bad or something. I've seen that. When Zuko takes the throne, he won't be able to afford the kind of controversy that having a wife or girlfriend from the Water Tribes would give him. They're very conservative in the Fire Nation in some ways and he'll need the backing of his people. There are a lot of policies that have to be put in place, and they'll be very unpopular. Not to mention he can't afford to be fighting a war on two fronts, one about his wife being inappropriate, which goes to supposed bad judgment about everything and thinning the royal like, as well as fighting with those same people over taxes and education.

"Zuko needs to be able to start his reign without all that trouble. If I were to be involved with him, permanently, he would have just those problems," Katara explained.

So this wasn't the issue that Marian had been through herself. It would have almost been noble if it weren't for, "So you're forcing yourself on him to . . ." Marian thought quickly, "To get time with him while you can, but at the same time, ensure he hates you so that he'll find himself an appropriate wife without having feelings for you interfere?" she guessed.

Katara nodded again. "I have to make him hate me," she lamented. "But I can't, I can't leave him alone. I just . . ." She burst into tears again, and Marian held her, rocking the confused girl gently. There was a sound by the door, and they both looked up to see Zuko standing there. Marian frowned slightly, certain the look on the boy's face was yearning. She winced internally. It seemed pretty certain Zuko had fallen in love with Katara anyhow, if the way he was looking at her now was any indication.

"Are you okay?" he asked, taking a few steps forward.

The transformation was incredible. Katara had been shaking and weeping a moment before, but before Marian's eyes she straightened with a snap, and if it weren't for the fact that Katara's psychic presence was bleeding sadness and shame into the air around her, Marian might have thought the whole scene a moment before was a lie. "Fine, Zuko," she told him sharply. "I certainly don't need any sort of help from someone like you."

The boy flinched, and Marian noted Katara clasping her hands behind her back, one hand giving a vicious pinch to the wrist of the other arm. The girl swept off, as imperious as any queen could ever be, and the boy watched her go, then turned and bowed. "Lady," he said, and vanished into the house as well.

Marian tracked Saetan down in his office. "Marian," he said with a small smile. "This is a surprise. I thought you were here to see Mrs. Beale."

"I was," she said without preamble. "But I talked to Katara, I'm guessing right after you scolded her."

He leaned back, steepling his fingers, "I assume my words had some effect?"

"She knew she was being cruel," Marian told him. "I doubt it's anything as terrible as Dorothea's pet witches though."

Saetan sat up. "When you say she knew, do you mean she was doing it deliberately?"

"Yes," Marian told him. When the temperature started to drop with the man's cold rage, she hastened to say, "But she thinks she's being cruel to be kind."

That derailed him. "I beg your pardon?" he asked. So Marian explained about Katara's political reasons for trying to keep Zuko from falling for her, while still getting his attentions for as long as she could. "So . . . Allow me to clarify," Saetan said. "She believes that a romantic connection between them would be damaging to him as the authority in his native Territory, so she is damaging them both because she feels she is protecting his future throne?"

Marian nodded. "I think it's too late for that, of course. He arrived while we were talking and I am fairly certain-"

"It's too late," Saetan agreed. "He is in love with her. I must presume it is because he knows her true character from watching her with the others. Perhaps even because she betrays herself when they are alone, so he has hope." The warlord prince sighed, heavily. "Something must be done," he said.

That was simple enough to arrange, actually. "I'll get her talking about it. Can you fetch Zuko to 'accidentally' overhear?"

Saetan smiled. "You fit so well into this family," he told her.

It was that simple. It took very little time for Marian to get Katara to join her in the kitchen to discuss more recipes and complain about the men in their lives who couldn't seem to pick up after themselves. It was even easier to get her talking about Zuko. Most likely the poor girl had been languishing for an opportunity to say something about it.

"He's actually the only one I never have to bother about for his laundry," Katara told her as she pounded out the dough for some sweet rolls she was making. "I have to bug everyone about their laundry every time, and then there's always someone who comes up to me after I've finished."

"'I forgot all my socks,'" Marian said with a grin. "That happens all the time with Daemonar."

Katara smiled. "At least you're his mother. There's something wrong about having to be Sokka's mother when it comes to those things."

"True," Marian said. "But Zuko remembers?"

Katara sighed, a little dreamily. "He remembers, he even helps when it doesn't interfere with Aang's training schedule." She smiled. "Actually, he helps with a lot of things the others just totally miss. It kind of amazes me that he does, since I'd think that the prince of the Fire Nation would be the last person to pay attention to when the mending gets done, but he shows up and helps me thread needles and carries things for me."

"It sounds like he's a wonderful young man," Marian commented.

"He is," Katara admitted. "It's why I love him so much. But I know that part of it is just that he's trying to get me to . . . to forgive him." Her eyes suddenly sparkled with tears. "I just wish I could let him know he doesn't need it," the girl said. "I wish I didn't have to make sure he hates me so that he won't . . . won't even think about finding a proper Fire Nation girl when the war is over."

"What!" Zuko snapped sharply from the door. Marian saw Saetan hovering behind him and sent a quick thank you to him on a psychic thread. Unaware of their plotting, Zuko stormed over to Katara. "You've been . . . all this time you've been like you have because you think I should marry a 'proper Fire Nation girl'?"

"You should," Katara told him. "When you're Fire Lord you won't have the luxury of getting into arguments with the council over who your wife is. We both know most of the Fire Nation thinks of the Water Tribe as savages."

"You're not a savage," Zuko told her. "And you're changing the subject. Have you been . . . been so hot and cold all the time because you were trying to make me hate you?"

"Yes!" Katara exploded. "Of course I have! It was the only way I could have you, wasn't it? It's not like you'd ever want to be with a Water Tribe peasant anyhow-"

_I knew it,_ Marian shot to Saetan. _I knew that was part of it_.

Her father-in-law sighed. _If only it weren't._

The couple were still arguing, Zuko shouting over whatever she would have had to say next. "So is this about my future as the Fire Lord, or about the fact that you think I'm such a horrible person that you think I would never want someone like you as my girlfriend?"

"What do you mean?" Katara asked him, bewildered. "I just meant you'd want someone who was sophisticated, with fancy manners. Someone who's pretty."

"You _are_ pretty," Zuko told her. "And I don't want someone else. I want you. Did you really think I was letting you join me every night because I felt guilty? Did you really think you were forcing me?"

Katara nodded, looking miserable. "I thought you were doing it because of how I threatened you that first night."

"I knew by the second day you were too fair to do that," Zuko told her. "Katara. You just said that you love me. Do you mean it?"

Tears had begun to spill down her face. "Yes," she told him.

"I love you too," he said, pulling her against him. Katara burrowed into his chest and he easily tucked her head in under his chin.

"You're not supposed to," she grumbled. "You're supposed to hate me because I've been horrible to you and forced you to sleep with me."

Zuko sounded amused. "You think force would come into it? I wanted you ever since we fought at the North Pole."

"Really?"

"Really. You were amazing."

They leaned back enough to look at each other properly, then they kissed. Then Katara said over her shoulder, "Don't think I don't know you just set me up, Marian."

"Thank you," Zuko said.

"I told her all that in confidence," Katara said to him in irritation. "And I still think you should find yourself a nice Fire Nation girl, because I'd make a lousy Fire Lady."

"First, you'd rather we were both miserable?" Zuko asked her. "I mean, I love you."

"Don't say that," Katara said, belying her words by pressing herself closer to him.

Zuko ignored her and continued. "We'll just both be miserable since there's nothing keeping us apart except that you feel like you have to. Second," he added, "You'd make a great Fire Lady. If it weren't for you we'd all fall apart. You're great at organising. Sokka plans, but you make things happen."

"Sokka's stupid," she muttered.

"I promise I won't tell him you said that."

"Pfft. I'm not scared of my stupid brother."

"Are you going to stop your silly plan and be my girlfriend?" Zuko asked her.

Katara thought for a moment, then gave in. "Fine. But when you can't get anything past the Fire Nation councillors because they think your ability to govern is compromised, I'm going to say I told you so."

"Fine," Zuko said, and kissed her.

It was when Katara and Zuko told their friends about their new relationship that Saetan learned why the boy Aang was so indulged. The boy's fit over the loss of any chance to win Katara's romantic affections sent him into a rage that involved glowing eyes, whirlwinds and the near-total destruction of the garden.

When his sons started pounding on his door in an attempt to convince him to intervene, he just locked the door pointedly and ignored them. He'd done his part, let someone else pick up those pieces. The resolve lasted until it became clear Marian had ratted out his role in getting Katara and Zuko together, which meant both his sons had prevailed on Kaelas to let them in.

Saetan sourly reflected on the idyllic days when the Coven had been teenagers and he'd only wanted to bang his head on the wall and whimper once day as he sat through the scheming of his three children.


End file.
